Welcome Home
by percychased
Summary: Oliver Wood had always thought Quidditch was the most important thing in his life until war told him otherwise. Family fic.


_Welcome Home_

* * *

_1982, age 6_

The uncut grass, wild and untamed, was just skimming his feet as the cool breeze ruffled his hair. Oliver Wood grinned. This was what he'd been waiting for his _whole entire life!_ Mama was silly. He wasn't going to hurt himself. Papa was right. He was a natural!

He gazed at the ground and kicked his feet, smiling wider and laughing with uncontested glee as his toes swung through the air. He leaned forward, just like he saw the Quidditch players do at the game Papa had taken him to, and his eyes widened as the broom quickened, blurring the fine details of the long garden grass.

He could go anywhere! _This _was real magic! Wands were boring. Mama cooked with hers and Papa picked the apples in the orchard with his, but brooms, _brooms _were fun!

Mama had finally agreed yesterday to a trip to Diagon Alley to get his first broom, after Oliver had pleaded for what seemed like _forever. _Papa took him out, and they got the nicest training broom they could find, the Hovercraft 960, and Papa even paid two more galleons to get his name carved into it!

Oliver continued to zoom around the yard, cheering and laughing. He knew Mama was peering at him from outside the window, and Papa could see him from the orchard, but he felt like a bird – so free!

He knew, right then, that flying was the one thing he would love the most.

_1987, age 11_

"I'm going to try out anyway, Papa. You'll see, they'll let me on! I'll be the best Gryffindor Keeper ever!"

"You're not even on the train yet, son," said Peter Wood, laughing, swinging the hands of his sisters back and forth as they enjoyed their last day at home together before Oliver left for school.

"One..." said Peter slowly, and baby Georgia and eight-year-old Lydia backed up. "Two..."

"Three!" Peter said, swinging his daughters up in the air, until they let go of his hands and flew forward, giggling on stumbling.

"I know," said Oliver. "I can't wait to go to school, Papa."

Peter laughed - an easy, joyous sound. "You won't be saying that around OWLs and NEWTs, Ollie. But it is fun. I had plenty of great times with my mates there, and I'm sure you will too."

"Fun! Ollie, fun," said three-year-old Georgia, waddling towards him and patting his leg.

"Why do I have to wait _three whole years?_" whinged Lydia, putting her hands on her hips. "Why'd you have to have him first?"

"Aw, you just wait, kiddo," said Peter, ruffling his daughter's pigtails and picking up the other one. "You just wait. Hogwarts is tons of fun. Ollie will send you letters all about it."

_1991, age 15_

"This is the year," said Oliver, nodding to the twins, the three Chasers, and Harry. "I feel it. We can do this. We've got the most skilled Seeker," he nodded to Harry, "the unbeatable Beaters, the three best Chasers. And we have me."

"You're good, Oliver," piped in Katie. "We couldn't do this without you."

Oliver nodded and continued. "We're going to practice six am sharp, Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday mornings, and Wednesday, Friday, and Sunday evenings, six pm sharp. I've devised a whole new strategy for you three -" he pointed to the three girls "- which involves more passing, and I've incorporated elements from the Cooke Strategy into that new play for you three."

Looking up from his speech, Oliver realized that the team looked nearly asleep – Fred and George slumped over, Katie trying to hide a yawn, and Angelina, unashamed, with her head in Alicia's lap.

He sighed.

_1993, age 17_

"You can't _cancel_ Quidditch," said Oliver, gaping at Professor McGonagall as though she was some sort of terrifying creature. He missed what she said next and took two slow steps backward.

They needed to play this game! The team had been doing morning practices seven days a week for two weeks now, and they _needed _this game! Oh, he'd make her listen, somehow... they needed to play this...

"Oliver, your face is going quite red," said Angelina, trying to hide a snigger.

"Ollie looks like he's about to snap his broom," snickered Fred.

"Hatred knows no bounds, huh," said Katie, raising her eyebrows.

"We needed to..." Oliver shook his head and turned away, walking toward the Gryffindor common room muttering under his breath.

McGonagall couldn't just _cancel _Quidditch!

_1997, age 21_

"So what about it, mate? First string Keeper?"

_Keep breathing._

"It would be my honour," said Oliver, trying desperately not to dance around the manager's office like Georgia and Lydia would.

"Brilliant. You already come to the practices, mate, and your starting contract is one of the best I've seen, ever. Looks like the owners want you here," said the manager, grinning at Oliver.

Oliver signed with a flourish at the bottom of the parchment. Some things didn't require contemplation.

_1998, age 22_

Where was she? She said she'd meet him back here. Maybe...

No, no. That didn't happen. That _couldn't _happen. With his broomstick tucked under his arm, Oliver ran through the rubble of the corridors, breathing heavily. He didn't know what to do. He wasn't a man cut out for following – but he was no leader, either. He needed teamwork, friends, and right now, he was alone.

His sister. Where was she? Georgia was only fourteen, he'd seen that she'd been evacuated from the building, but Lydia was nineteen, and she told him she sure as hell wasn't leaving her home.

He stumbled through the corridors. He could hear smashing, yelling, screaming vaguely around him, but this corridor was empty, and so was the next, and the one after that...

At the end of the next one a woman stumbled, holding herself up on a cracked wall, eyes half-closed. He recognized the curly brown hair, the big blue eyes, the wide shoulders... _Lydia._

For the first time in his life, Oliver Wood dropped his broomstick.

* * *

First and foremost, to Colleen, who is a wonderful author and friend. I hope you like this Oliver-centric. Inspired by Welcome Home by Radical Face. Word count: 1,027.

_Quidditch League: _round two, Puddlemere United, chaser one. Oliver flying,"Hatred knows no bounds, huh," creature, "Don't walk behind me; I may not lead. Don't walk in front of me; I may not follow. Just walk beside me and be my friend." - Albert Camus

_Gift Giving Extravaganza 2014_

_The Chocolate Frogs Cards Trading Challenge_


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